


Come Home

by missabigriffin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Depression, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, alcohol use, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 19:06:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missabigriffin/pseuds/missabigriffin
Summary: “You need to stop.”God, she couldn’t even count on both of her hands how often she has heard this sentence before.Does she know that she needs to stop? Yes.Does she want to stop? No.Abby huffs as she crosses her arms in front of her chest and stares at Marcus with piercing eyes.





	Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank You for clicking on this story.  
Please be warned about triggering content like addiction, suicidal thoughts, alcohol use.
> 
> If you still want to read it, I hope you will like it!  
Take Care.

“You need to stop.”  
God, she couldn’t even count on both of her hands how often she has heard this sentence before.   
Does she know that she needs to stop? Yes.  
Does she want to stop? No.  
Abby huffs as she crosses her arms in front of her chest and stares at Marcus with piercing eyes.  
“Don’t look at me like that.” He tries to take the pill bottle in front of her, but she snatches it away before he even had the chance. She knew he was going to try to take them away from her.  
“Don’t.” She hisses, then softly adds, “please.”  
His eyes soften for a second before he runs his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated.  
“This can’t continue, Abby. You can’t continue like this. This is killing you.”  
“That’s the plan” she mumbles to herself, hunched in her chair, not even looking at him.  
“You don’t care at all, do you? You don’t give a damn who you’ll leave behind.”  
Her eyes snap to his. Oh, she’s furies.  
“You think I don’t care?! I care, Marcus! But I can’t do this anymore. I didn’t want to be in this bunker! You did this to me. You put me here. You didn’t respect my choice, my wishes. Was it planned to get addicted to painkillers? No, it wasn’t, you can’t plan things like this. I didn’t want to feel anymore. When I took them for my headache, that’s exactly what I got. I was numb, I wasn’t so worried anymore, I could breathe and I was able to laugh! I want to stop, Marcus. But _I can’t_. Not in this moment, this very instant. You don’t know what it’s like to live like this, fully well knowing what you’re doing to yourself, your body. I’m sick. I’m depressed, I’m an addict and I’m suicidal. And yet, despite all of these things I’m miraculously still here. I can overdose all the fuck I want and yet my body won’t let me die. It keeps fighting and there’s nothing I can do. I love you, Marcus, but I just can’t keep living anymore. _It hurts too much. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to live_…”  
Hot tears are streaming down her face and she angrily brushes them away.  
“Abby—“, he begins, but she interrupts him.  
“Don’t. I’m going for a walk... if you can even call it that.”  
With that she walks towards the door and slams it on her way out.

***

It’s been over three hours since she left their room. She’s been roaming around the bunker, not really going anywhere. Except medical, to fill her bottle up. Octavia doesn’t know they exist, because if she did, she’d be in lots of trouble.  
Before she knows it, she finds herself in front of Jackson’s and Miller’s door.  
She knocks, then waits. She doesn’t even know if they’re home. Sometimes they love to go to this dance party every other night. Abby never learned whose idea it was, but she remembers how Marcus twirled her around a night they had decided to go and how much fun she had. That was at the beginning of her addiction, when it wasn’t as bad as it is right now.  
“Abby? What are you doing here?” Jackson stands in the door, a surprised look on his face.  
“I don’t know.. I had a fight with Marcus…”  
He gently grabs her arms and pulls her into his quarters. Once the door was closed, he engulfs her into a tight hug. He always knew what she needed.  
Once they break apart, he tells her to sit on the couch while he gets them a cup of tea.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” He hands her the cup and she warms her hands with it.  
“You already know what it was about.” Her voice is just above a whisper. She’s fully aware of the fact that Marcus and Jackson talk about her behind her back.  
“Abby, I know you don’t want to hear it, but Marcus is right.”  
She stares at him, the cup mere inches from her lips.   
“You need to stop. And I know you can’t, I know how it all works, Abby. I studied under you, you taught me everything I need to know and you still are. I just can’t let you die and neither can he.”  
Abby puts her cup down and fidgets with her fingers. She doesn’t want to talk about this, she doesn’t want to hear this.  
“It’s neither of your decision, Eric. It’s mine. You damn well know forced sobriety ends with relapses over relapses. I don’t want to get clean and I’d appreciate it if you two stopped forcing me and stopped guilt tripping me. It’s not helping. It’s making matters worse. Were you even listen to anything that I was teaching you about substance abuse disorder?”  
She knows she’s being harsh, she just can’t help it. They’ve been violating her privacy for far too long.  
“Abby, please.”  
“Stop it, Jackson. I didn’t come here for another fight. Please never ever doubt how much I love you. But this is my life and I can make my own decisions, okay?”  
“Okay. I love you too, Abby. That’s why I’m worried so much.”  
“I know.”  
She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it.  
“I’ll go. Sleep.”  
“You too, Abby.”  
With one last smile she opens the door and heads outside, not knowing where to go now.

***

She stands in front of her own quarters, unsure wether to go in and face Marcus or not. Abby takes a deep breath and then enters.  
Marcus is nowhere in sight.  
“Alright” she mutters to herself, unites her shoes and pours herself something to drink. Alcohol and pills never go along, but she needs to feel excited and happy. Yet, there’s no guarantee that she will exactly feel those things. She’ll either experience a high or a low— and she hopes it’ll be a high.

Thirty minutes later she’s drunk. And it’s sadly not the high she wanted. It’s a low.  
Frustrated she keeps drinking the horrible moonshine they bought from someone a long time ago. She can’t deal with herself anymore. She’s such a horrible person. She killed innocent people just to get Marcus inside the bunker. She killed an innocent man for the sake of all of their survival. She turned into a mountain man. She doesn’t know who she is anymore. She’s not even a fragment of herself. She’s broken beyond repair and she doesn’t know how long she can still hold on. If it had been up to her, she’d be long gone. But Marcus decided to play God and forced her to live.  
She hated being alive. The pills help... and the alcohol.  
She takes another swig straight out of the bottle before she takes some pills, drinks two glasses of water and lies down in their bed. She’s exhausted, she’s drunk and everything hurts and is simply too much.

***

The next morning her head hurts and she’s nauseous. But that was to be expected.  
With a groan she turns on her side and prays to whatever God that she won’t throw up.

A few hours later she wakes up again and she feels immensely better. Abby slowly sits up and takes tiny sips from a cup of water. Either she got it or Marcus put it there. She can’t remember if she got up at some point or not.  
She’s lucky she has her day of work today, but if she is being honest; she calculated it. It was long overdue to get drunk again and now she’s content for a few days or even weeks or months. It all depends on her emotional well being.  
She takes a sniff at herself and grimaces. She reeks like a distiller. Abby gets up and heads into their bathroom— she desperately needs a shower.

After the shower she feels a lot better. Her wet hair falls over her shoulders and she smells like the shampoo they already had in the bunker.  
She steps out of the shower and stops dead in her tracks. Marcus stands there, her bottle in his hands.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I’m taking them away.” His voice leaves no room for arguments.  
“No, you’re not.” Her inside turn cold and she’s pretty sure he can her the iciness in her voice. “You can’t.”  
“I can.”  
His determination shows, while she’s falling deeper and deeper into a dark pit.   
“If you do this, we’re over.” The words are out of her mouth before she can process what she said. As much as she’d love to take them back, she can’t. What’s been said was said and she needs to deal with the consequences.  
“If it means I will save you, I will gladly take it into account. I love you Abby, but I won’t stand by and watch you kill yourself.”  
She takes a shaky breath and steps towards him. “Give them to me. Now!”  
He shakes his head and pockets them. Shaking her head she takes a few more steps before they’re nearly chest to chest.  
“Marcus, please.” She lays her hand on his chest and feels his heart speed up. She loves that she still makes his heart race by just a simple touch. Getting on her tiptoes she lays his lips on his and kisses him. He responds and soon his hands are in her hair, on her neck and hers are everywhere on him. They both moan, her hand wanders and she nearly got them, but he stops kissing her and holds her hands in a firm grip.  
“Stop, please. I don’t want to lose you.”  
“And I can’t lose you, Marcus. Please, don’t go. Don’t take them. Please.”  
He smiles as he gently strokes her hair, then cheek and gives her one long and soft kiss.  
“I’m sorry. I’m doing this to safe you.”  
“But you’re not.” She states and she’s knows she’s hurting him even more. But it’s the truth and he needs to hear it. “You’re not. Forcing sobriety on me won’t work. I will relapse and it might be worse than before.”  
“You’re strong.” The warmth and honesty in his voice is too much for her. He won’t ever understand.  
“Even if I am. I’m not strong enough for this. And if you do this…” trailing off, she takes a few steps away from him. She can’t be near him right now.  
“If I do this?” His hands are on his hips, expectingly waiting for her to finish the sentence.  
“You won’t safe me. Even if you’d like to believe that this is exactly what you’re doing— it's not. You can’t love me into sobriety, Marcus. You can leave me and I can leave you but that won’t make me sober. I have to want it, and I don’t. Not at the moment. As much as I want to…” she takes a shaky breath and averts her eyes. “I’m still too broken. And I can’t, Marcus. I can’t. I need to not feel and I need to feel the happiness the pills produce. Or else I’m going crazy. They give me a sense of calmness and make me, _me_. So please, don’t do this.”  
Marcus sighs. “I’m sorry, Abby.”  
He turns around and walks out of the door.  
“No, no, no, no, no.” She whispers frantically, her breathing speeds up and she starts to panic.  
She just broke up with Marcus and he took her pills. God, she’s such an idiot. She knows where to get them but she froze, panicked and she felt betrayed he’d do something like that. She didn’t have to go this far, but she felt cornered.  
Without a second thought she opened the door and literally sprinted to medical. She was on a mission. She knows he must give them back to Jackson, because what use does he have for the pills?  
She arrives in medical and as soon as she unlocked the door, she goes and opens up the cabinet that contains numerous bottles of painkillers. A grin spread across her lips as she picks a full bottle up and puts them in her pockets.

Back in their— _her_ quarters, she pops some, swallows them with water and opens up a medical book they found in the bunker a few months ago.  
Her heart is broken, her emotions are running wild, but the pills numb the pain, the emotions and she can at least pretend she’s fine while she’s dying more and more inside.

***

It’s been three months since their breakup. She can see it on his face that he knows she’s still on the pills and that she acquired some new ones since that day.  
Abby knows he’s heartbroken, but she told him it will be for nothing. And if she’s honest, she misses him. So she goes up to him, takes a seat beside him at the cantina, takes his hand and says three little words, that end with a kiss.  
“Come home, _please_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this story and its ending.  
Please let me know with comments & kudos what you're thoughts are on this story.
> 
> Thank You so much <3


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